I have a
friend who is there, and they make lots of money--four or five pounds
every week in tips, they say."
"I'll see what I can do for you," I said. "I know several hotel-managers
who might have a vacancy."
"Ah, signore!" he cried, filled with gratification. "If you only would!
A word from you would secure me a good position. I can work, that you
know--and I do work. I will work--for her sake."
"I have promised you," I said briefly.
"And how can I sufficiently thank you?" he cried, standing before me,
while in his eyes I thought I detected a strange wild look, such as I
had never seen there before.
"You served me well, Olinto," I replied, "and when I discover real
sterling honesty I endeavor to appreciate it. There is, alas! very
little of it in this world."
"Yes," he said in a hoarse voice, his manner suddenly changing. "You
have to-night shown me, signore, that you are my friend, and I will, in
return, show you that I am yours." And suddenly grasping both my hands,
he pulled me from the chair in which I was sitting, at the same time
asking in a low intense whisper: "Do you always carry a revolver here in
England, as you do in Italy?"
"Yes," I answered in surprise at his action and his question.
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